Post by Vulgair Macuil on Jan 18, 2020 1:16:27 GMT -5
The rain dripped on his head. It was intentional. On boring days, he livened up his day by stimulating the senses. Truth be told, it wasn't really rain, but nobody wanted to downgrade a nuisance to a mere drizzle.
He could have worn a coat with a hood. In fact, he probably should. The last time he went in the "rain" without proper coverage, he caught a pretty nasty flu. He also lost a lot of money on missions he didn't take. Fun. Still, this was his favorite weather, without the encumbrance of an umbrella. Overcast weather, with a significant drizzle. The bay was a light grey with choppy waves and a quiet but audible sea breeze.
At least he had some rain pants on, under his favorite trench coat. Grey and red sneakers splish-splashed in the puddles while he slowly approached the dock. A seagull regarded him balefully, before taking off. It slowly disappeared in a light fog out at sea. The planks creaked as he quietly stepped across.
He found himself at the end of the dock, looking down several feet, past the surface. Idly, he looked for fish, hands in his pockets.
Nothing to do today, and his usual hangout was closed. Too bad, because he could usually pick up some ambient energy, or occasionally a conversation.
A melancholy sigh briefly cut through the rising winds. His shadow - stretched over the water - contorted and twisted as its master slowly turned, intending to come back to shore. His eyes surveyed the bay as he slowly approached the sullen walls of stone.
He could have worn a coat with a hood. In fact, he probably should. The last time he went in the "rain" without proper coverage, he caught a pretty nasty flu. He also lost a lot of money on missions he didn't take. Fun. Still, this was his favorite weather, without the encumbrance of an umbrella. Overcast weather, with a significant drizzle. The bay was a light grey with choppy waves and a quiet but audible sea breeze.
At least he had some rain pants on, under his favorite trench coat. Grey and red sneakers splish-splashed in the puddles while he slowly approached the dock. A seagull regarded him balefully, before taking off. It slowly disappeared in a light fog out at sea. The planks creaked as he quietly stepped across.
He found himself at the end of the dock, looking down several feet, past the surface. Idly, he looked for fish, hands in his pockets.
Nothing to do today, and his usual hangout was closed. Too bad, because he could usually pick up some ambient energy, or occasionally a conversation.
A melancholy sigh briefly cut through the rising winds. His shadow - stretched over the water - contorted and twisted as its master slowly turned, intending to come back to shore. His eyes surveyed the bay as he slowly approached the sullen walls of stone.
